


some loser who rides the same bus

by Nellsie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 21:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13198962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellsie/pseuds/Nellsie
Summary: Natalya rides the bus to work. Antonio becomes a new regular.It's a gift for @reyeslala on tumblr. Happy holidays!





	some loser who rides the same bus

**Author's Note:**

> mentioned onesided lietbel for the sake of a comparison, some pessimism on the part of our lovely protagonist.

There’s _some kid_ sitting at Natalya’s bus stop. She tries not to pay him any mind, but he’s just so _happy._ It’s incredibly distressing.

Natalya has been taking this same bus to work almost every day for the last five years or so, and she has never encountered this unfamiliar entity. He sits at the other end of the bench, humming contentedly—probably to some music playing over his headphones, it sounds far too cheery for Natalya’s taste—as he waits for the bus.

Natalya tries not to pay him any mind. He probably won’t be here tomorrow, anyway.

* * *

He’s there tomorrow. And the day after that.

He’s becoming quite the regular to public transport, and Natalya would usually assume that two or three days of taking the bus and likely the subway would chase away any semblance of joy related to the experience. Yet still, he keeps on smiling when sitting at the stop.

He waves at Natalya when she arrives at the stop today, and she raises her eyebrows at him.

She takes a good look at this kid. He’s relatively normal looking. He doesn’t _seem_ to be a rampant serial killer, though Natalya isn’t known for her ability to read others.

(That might be evidenced by the fact that she believes one must be a serial killer to enjoy riding the bus, or wave to strangers.)

He isn’t bad looking—he’s kind of cute, in an objective sense. Natalya thinks he’s a bit too handsome for her taste. All her partners in the past have had pretty obvious flaws, which Natalya appreciated. This guy seems a bit too unreal for her. Sun-kissed skin and messy but not _too messy_ hair. He’s like someone lifted directly from a magazine her sister might’ve read when they were younger.

He wears an apron, so Natalya assumes he’s heading to a workplace of some kind. Probably a Starbucks or something. He’s been wearing the same headphones since his first day at the bus stop.

Natalya figures he’s a new regular, and pays him no mind. If he wants to be disproportionately happy with public transportation, who is she to stop him?

* * *

He says, “hi!” when Natalya passes him on an early morning. It isn’t the best decision he could’ve made. Natalya has barely slept for the past few days.

There’s this meeting coming up, and Natalya’s boss—who she would usually describe as, “an American asshole who’s never known hardship a day in his life,” but for the sake of her sanity, she refers to as Mr. Jones—says she’s up for a promotion. So all this weekend she’s been preparing for this meeting, and she’s going to be preparing for it until the day it comes around, because _like hell_ is she going to be here, riding the bus to work everyday, only so she can sit in a cubicle and file everyone else’s cases.

So yeah, she’s a bit on edge today, and she glares at the new bus regular. He looks confused—like he’s not sure what he’s done wrong, which, _yeah,_ is to be expected—and then quickly tilts his head curiously at Natalya.

She keeps her chin up and ignores him. There’s no point in caring about how a stranger might perceive her. Hell, Natalya barely cares about how people she knows and talks to regularly perceive her.

* * *

Natalya looks like shit, and she realizes it as soon as she gets home and looks in the mirror. Her eyes are sunken and tired-looking. Her hair is a mess.

She has a face that was often described as delicate when she was younger. Fair-skinned and free of blemishes. Long, shining blonde hair and simple, thin features. Nowadays she does little to keep up that image. Fuck that, she’d rather be this than continue that reputation of some angelic, perfectly kept young lady.

It is better to be unbroken than it is to be fragile. It is better to be rough around the edges and clearly visible than it is to be blurry, hard to comprehend. And she’d do anything nowadays to prevent that softness from creeping into her.

Her hardness is an immunity to the outside world and its effects. If there is one chink in her armor, it flies by unnoticed, because the world can’t attack Natalya. No one can.

It’s best, that way.

* * *

That same guy who’s been riding her bus everyday stands up when Natalya approaches the stop, and honest to God, he _bows._

He bows, and holds out a hand to her. Natalya raises an eyebrow. She’s almost entirely sure that they’re at a bus stop in Queens, not some kind of renaissance faire where it's commonly accepted that one bows to those they’ve wronged.

She should be clear, it’s not a full on bow. He doesn’t bend at the waist and declare his subservience. Nor does he fall to the knee at the sight of her. He simply lowers himself a bit and holds out a hand.

“I, uh,” He laughs, “I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to do this. I’m sorry?” He tries, and he keeps talking, “I said hi to you when you came to the stop the other day, but you kind of glared at me, and that got me thinking, is it not protocol to say hi to people here? And then I started _over_ thinking and I wanted to apologize, if you’d let me.”

Natalya is a little bit shorter than him. She glances at his green apron to see that his name tag says _Antonio C._ She glances back up at his hopeful eyes, and denying his apology now would be kind of a cheap shot, like kicking a sick puppy or something.

She shrugs, “It doesn’t matter,” She says, “I’ve been having a bad week, you’re a stranger. Seemed an easy solution.” She speaks in the same level tone that she always does.

“Ah, okay,” He seems sort of relieved, still sort of confused, “thank you, miss…?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She repeats.

“Miss It Doesn’t Matter, then,” He smiles, and Natalya isn’t the best at reading people, but he sounds amused, “I’m looking forward to riding the same bus with you.”

“You shouldn't be.” She says, deadpan. “I’m not.”

It’s quiet from then on, but the silence is less confrontational. Maybe that’s an improvement.

* * *

At work, there’s this guy. He likes Natalya, and it’s all very sweet aside from the fact that she couldn’t be bothered to feign interest in him.

Toris is nice—far too nice, in Natalya’s opinion. One really should use discretion with those they are kind to—and he isn’t bad looking. Quite the opposite, but he isn’t Natalya’s type. Not even Natalya really knows what “Natalya’s type” is.

He stutters when he talks to her and smiles when he thinks of her, and it’s nice. It’s nice to be liked by someone, she can admit that much, but aside from the ego-boost, it does little for her. She avoids him, most of the time.

“Ms. Arlovskaya,” He refers to her, and he goes pink in the face when she looks at him, “I have some cases you should look over.”

“Toris,” She returns, and he hands her the files, and it’s over. Natalya thinks little of the interaction, because she thinks little of Toris.

* * *

Antonio thinks of Natalya as a friend, or so it seems. He smiles when he sees her and he exudes this warmth that just gets warmer when she’s nearby. She thinks, maybe, in a way, he might like her. More than other people do, anyway. It feels good, being liked by Antonio. It makes her question what “her type” might be.

“Miss It Doesn’t Matter,” Antonio greets her at the bus stop. It’s a Friday, today, and he’s been greeting her like this all week, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Did you hear something?” She says to no one, “I swear, there’s something insignificant flying near my ears, making noises,” She pauses dramatically, and there’s this primal amusement that’s hard to suppress, “Oh, it’s just you.” She turns to Antonio.

“Very funny,” He smiles, and she thinks he means it. It’s kind of weird, how genuine he is. Natalya can’t imagine being so happy in public, but she is smiling a bit when she talks to him.

The non-confrontational silence is getting very friendly as of late, and Natalya thinks more about it. She’s been thinking a lot more about Antonio, lately.

* * *

Natalya’s sister wants to visit. Natalya’s boss wants her to do some overtime shifts. Natalya’s brother wants her to come home for the holidays. Natalya’s friends—if she had any—would probably want to steal her time if they could.

Natalya takes her boss’s offer. It’s the best decision, if she wants that promotion.

* * *

Antonio thinks Natalya looks very unhappy lately.

“You seem very independent. Are you a scorpio?” He asks, and Natalya raises an eyebrow. Their bus is late. “I’m an aquarius.”

“A virgo, actually.” She says, and she doubts he’d expect her to be superstitious. Still, she researches the signs, and so she asks, “I don’t see much of an aquarius in you.”

He looks surprised, and then a smile creeps onto his face and he scratches the back of his neck. “Well, you’d have to get to know me better.”

Natalya might like to get to know him better. Maybe.

* * *

It rains during her overtime shift, and it’s all very depressing, watching the rain hit the windows as it slowly gets darker, but she always packs an umbrella. She’ll be fine, if a little less motivated.

By the time she clocks out, it’s absolutely pouring outside. She catches the bus without a drop of rainwater on her. Her heavy utility umbrella is good for something, at least.

When she gets to her bus stop—the one she catches in the mornings and gets off at in the evening—she’s surprised to see Antonio there, shivering on the bench. He’s soaking wet.

He looks up at her, before smiling that stupid smile. “You might not believe it, but I didn’t actually know it was going to rain today.”

“I believe it.” Natalya says, holding her umbrella over her. It’s black, and it’s made for the rainiest of days. It kind of looks like she’s heading to a funeral, honestly.

He scratches the back of his neck and coughs, “I thought it’d be better to wait here so I could get dry before trying to walk back and get more, you know, soaked.”

“I see,” Natalya says, and that’s kind of the dumbest thing she’s ever heard. It’s cold out here. He’s certainly going to get a cold. “And how’s that working out?”

“Bad,” He’s still laughing. He’s so happy, all the time. It’s like it’s effortless for him, and Natalya has a lot of feelings geared towards that particular facet of his personality. They’re all very confusing emotions, most of the time.

(And when they aren’t confusing, they’re crystal clear. Envy and anger and frustration, but also a sort of hope that she’ll catch it from him one day.)

And Natalya analyzes the situation, and she’s completely dry save for her shoes, which are touching the wet pavement and are therefore getting wetter by the minute. Usually she’d hurry to her apartment to lessen the damage, but instead she contemplates her actions before handing him her umbrella.

“Pay it forward,” She says, and he looks up at her like she’s doing something very generous and _very_ stupid. She agrees. “I’ll be fine.” He takes the umbrella silently, nodding at her.

She walks home in the pouring rain. It’s cold and annoying and she feels awful, but there’s something warm and unidentifiable in her chest that has grown slowly since she gave him the umbrella.

Whatever. She takes a hot shower and goes to bed in dry clothes. Sleep-wise, it’s one of the best nights she’s had in ages.

* * *

The morning greets Natalya with a particularly powerful case of the sniffles. Antonio greets her with the umbrella and a bouquet of flowers.

“I thought repayment might be in order,” He smiles, and there must be some dial inside of him that allows him to turn up the charm on a whim. Natalya certainly feels the effects of it. “Thank you, you did me a favor, Miss It Doesn’t Matter.”

“Natalya.” She says, and he tilts his head, “My name. It’s Natalya. You’ve been calling me by that nickname the whole time.”

“Natalya,” He says, testing the sounds in his mouth. “It suits you. I love it. Are you sick?”

A lot to take in there. Natalya focuses on the last one, “It’s only the sniffles, it’s fine.” She says, and he places the flowers and the umbrella on the bench.

“Can I take your hand? This works best if I get to hold your hand,” He says, and it’s kind of adorably kind that he asked, so Natalya says yes. He takes her hand, “You got sick on my behalf! I demand that I be able to right this past wrong, and take you out to lunch, if that’s okay.” He adds _if that’s okay,_ and Natalya likes Antonio.

She likes that he makes her smile. She likes that silence with him is no longer confrontational. She likes that he respects her boundaries in every regard.

“Okay.” She says, and she doesn’t smile, but she hopes he can tell. He adds his number to his phone and saves himself as _Antonio Fernandez Carriedo_ with a heart at the end _._

* * *

She goes to the meeting and presents perfectly, and it’s boring as hell and it’s _long_ as hell but at the end of it Mr. Jones announces that she’s due for a promotion, and Natalya takes that time to ask if she can get an extra hour added to her lunch.

Mr. Jones—Alfred, he tells her. He’d like it if she’d consider him a friend, but Natalya never could—is surprised. Natallya has never expressed a desire for added benefits, but he’s more than happy to give her this one. He tells her that, if she wants, she can be free for the day.

She texts Antonio to tell him she’s free for the rest of the day. He sends something back that is full of emojis and happy emoticons. He tells her to meet him at the bus stop.

* * *

She walks with little urgency, he arrives out of breath, like he ran to get there.

“I ran to get here,” He says, “I convinced my boss to let me out of there so I could hang out with a beautiful woman, and maybe get lunch.”

“You lied to your boss?” Natalya raises an eyebrow.

He grins, “Hardly.”

Lunch is nice, Antonio makes it better. Natalya isn’t in love with him or anything, but snow falls outside of the restaurant windows and Antonio makes a comment about the weather being all over the place lately and she wants to laugh even though it isn’t funny at all. He makes it funny, what with all his softness and all his happiness.

She thinks, in her heart of hearts, that she may have caught some of it.


End file.
